Never Gonna Leave This Bed
by TropicalStormEmily
Summary: Teresa Lisbon is stubborn. But so is Patrick Jane. Can he get through to Lisbon, when all he really needs to tell her is that he loves her?


**This is Devon's birthday present. Happy (belated) birthday! 3 ( She's the Lisbon to my Jane, and my partner in my fangirling adventures!)**

_You say "Go, it isn't workin' "__  
><em>_and I say "No, it isn't perfect"__  
><em>_So I stay instead,__  
><em>_I'm never gonna leave this bed.  
>-Maroon 5 (Never Gonna Leave This Bed)<em>

* * *

><p>Lisbon's eyes snapped open at a slight noise, and she began to panic, at first failing to remember what happened. She rolled on her side, and her right hand reached around her mattress to grab a backup gun she kept there, just in case. Just the feel of the cold gun soothed her, as she swung it up to point at the man, who had not yet completely focused in her vision. <em>Wow, <em>she thought to herself, _gun aimed faster than my eyes can acclimate. Pretty good. _Then, her eyes began to work properly, and one hand came up to rub them, make her vision clearer.

"Jane?" she asked, gun still vaguely pointed at her half-dressed consultant. He stood, frozen , crouching a bit, staring at the gun. He was dressed only in blue pinstriped boxers and a white t-shirt. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were wide.

"Lisbon. Put the gun down." She obeyed, but slowly. Her hand trembled as her brow furrowed in confusion. Still groggy, she was frantically trying to remember what had gone on the last night. She remembered them entering her apartment, watching tv, being in her bed, the feel of a warm body against hers…

"What…did we?" Her breath caught in her throat. Lisbon looked scared, and Patrick could hear the beginnings of anger in her voice as she slid off the other side of the bed. They now stood across from each other, Lisbon dressed in an oversized t-shirt. The gun began to raise again, as anger and panic filled her mind. She was having a mini-episode, thinking about what could have gone down the night before to land her in a bed with Patrick Jane.

"No, no, no. We just slept. I promise you, Teresa, we just slept. Together. In the same bed. We didn't _sleep_ together." He put his hands up, waist high, in the classic gesture of innocence that shows empty hands. She didn't think he was so innocent, especially as the previous night came flooding back. There was a grisly murder; It had been Red John, a case that had hit a little too close to home. One of their own had been killed, a CBI agent. It had not been anyone on their team, but a murder of a CBI agent was never a good thing for the unit. Patrick had gone home with her. She remembered that, she hadn't wanted to be alone. She had felt so vulnerable, and a bit scared. Just having someone around had made her feel better. But now that he was here the next morning, she felt just as vulnerable and shaken, but in a different way. Teresa didn't depend on men, and she most certainly didn't pay that much attention to her emotions. Sure, there had been that brief stint with Walter, but that was a one-time thing. No, Lisbon didn't do relationships. She didn't do 'comfort.' She took care of herself, and it scared her half to death that she had even let anyone that close to her. But what really scared her was the fact that she already missed him sleeping beside her. It had been years since she had someone around who she truly cared about. So she did what she wanted to do least, tried to push him away.

"Out, now. NOW." Her breaths were getting heavier, but her arms were getting steadier. Patrick, of course, didn't move. Instead, he ran a hand through his disheveled blonde curls, and shrugged his shoulders. He looked down and gave a soft chuckle.

"Oh, Teresa, if only it were that easy." With this comment, he sat back down on the bed, one knee up on it, so could look at her and not turn his back to the angry woman with the gun. He put his hands on his bare knees and looked at her expectantly. She raised her eyebrows. "Well, I think I've made it clear I'm not leaving, but just so you know, I have no intentions of the sort until you sit and listen to me."

"No, Jane, I don't have to sit and listen to anything. This is my apartment, you're in my room. Out, now." He could hear the strain of fear in her voice under the tenuous anger. Still, she stood her ground, gun held at her side. However, he saw her wrist twitching, aching to bring the gun back up again.

"Lisbon, I am not leaving this bed. Now put that gun on the table, sit down, and talk to me. Please." He tilted his head in her direction, and extended his hand to her. She didn't take it, but sat on the bed, about an arm's length from him. She set the gun on her bedside table, sure to put the safety on. Her gaze then traveled down his arm, past his chest, down…she shook her head, trying not to blush. If he noticed, he didn't comment. _Sheep dip,_ what was wrong with her today? She moved her eyes up to his face, instead trying to concentrate on his face, the blue eyes, and the hair that managed to look devilishly handsome, even when it was messy. _Seriously, _she thought, _what is my deal?_ But if she was being honest, her gazes had been lingering for weeks, and his had been even worse. She had dreaded, and anticipated this outcome. If only she had been able to head this off. But she had even heard Rigsby's callous remarks to Jane about their obvious tension. Jane had laughed it off like a pro, but Lisbon couldn't help wondering if his laugh had sounded a little strained.

Lately, she had been over analyzing. _What was that look? What did he just say? Did he just raise his eyebrows at me? Oh, that was hot…WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. _Of course it hadn't interfered with her work; Teresa was too good of an agent to let it. But there was always that pause when their hands touched in the car, both reaching for the stereo volume. But Lisbon was fully convinced that they did not need to have this conversation. It was just simply not necessary. They would function better if they left all these things unsaid, and buried them deep. That way, awkward conversations would be avoided, and the pair could continue as they always had, with friendly banter and (mostly) lighthearted conversations. However, Patrick Jane had other thoughts on the matter.

"Lisbon. Please?" He tried to smile, and reached to tilt her chin up, scooting all the way up onto the bed, closer to her. She tensed, but forced her muscles to relax. She did not move away.

"Okay. I'm sitting." Her voice was a little softer now, but her arms were crossed tightly over her sides, sheltering her. Patrick slowly reached for her forearm, and pried away one hand, placing it palm down over his, palm up. He lightly held her wrist, just enough to get her to relax, and come out of her shell. As her other arm dropped from covering her body, he began.

"So, Lisbon, I'm sure you think this is a big mistake, bu-" she cut him off mid-sentence.

"Patrick Jane! Of course this is a big mistake, we're…" she trailed off, seeing his facial expression, eyebrows raised high. "Sorry," she added quietly, stopping her offensive front. She dropped her eyes again, but he cleared his throat.

"Come on Teresa, I'm ready to pour my heart out here, the least you can do is look at me." She did. "Thank you. Anyways, I've never been good at this sort of thing. But you've always been easy to be around, and easy to talk to, and you're just so…you're always there. For me, I mean, and I just…well…"

"Jane, you're rambling."

"Oh, yes. Well, what I'm trying to say is that I care about you a lot. I care about you even more than I anticipated. And I…"he took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, back and forth, finally resting his hand on the side of his face. "Well, Teresa, I don't know how much you've noticed, because I see things you do, and I wonder, and-"

"Jane. Rambling." She smiled, a chuckle begging to break through. He was just adorable when he was trying to be serious, for once, about something that mattered.

"Teresa. Please. I'm trying to tell you that I love you, and you just…" he trailed off after his hurried sentence. Then he looked up, eyes wide as if he was shocked that the words had come out of his mouth.

"You love me?" Her voice was part happy, part strained, and a little bit incredulous. She had expected some sort of awkward profession from herself, but nothing like this from him.

"You're the first person I've loved since Angela." At the thought of his wife's name, he closed his eyes and let a slow breath out. But he continued. "You have never let me down, Teresa, and I love you for that. I love you for so many reasons, including the fact that I trust you, and you trust me. And at some point, for me, that trust turned into love. I think I can see it in your face too, Lisbon. I think you feel the same way. But I need you to tell me. I need you to tell me that you love me, Teresa, because I need you now. Not tomorrow, not when the department decides it's okay, but now." He ended with what was trying to be a smile, but looked more like a question. For all the confidence he put in his words, Teresa Lisbon could see he wasn't sure of himself at all. For the first time, Patrick Jane was scared of her, and scared of how she would respond.

So, first she took back his hand that he had drawn away to wring his hands together. Then she leaned in for a kiss. Right before their lips met, she paused.

"What is it?" he asked, breathlessly.

"I love you, too." She smiled, and they laughed with happiness through the entire kiss.


End file.
